Sato i Tanaka

Eight seats along, a stranger was being talked out of his own order, gently, and I understood the house rules at once. The wise decision at Sato i Tanaka is to stop deciding. The counter follows whatever came in freshest that morning, so the menu is less a document than a weather report, and the people behind it will read you far better than you'll read the list. The room, in the Dreta de l'Eixample, is small enough that nothing hides: no wasted motion, no noise in the technique, Japanese cooking of a precision that never tips into fuss. Each visit comes out slightly different because the market writes the script, which keeps me curious. No theatre, no grand production, just quiet accuracy at close range. My next booking tends to sort itself out before the tea arrives.